


Good Morning Amatus

by The_Jade_Goblin



Series: The Elf and the Magister [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, pavellan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 19:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jade_Goblin/pseuds/The_Jade_Goblin
Summary: Dorian and the Inquisitor spend a quiet moment together in the morning





	Good Morning Amatus

The sun melted softly through the window, bathing the silk sheets in warm light. Dorian was sure he'd never felt so at peace than this moment.

At this moment of course he had Assan Lavellan wrapped in his arms beneath the sheets, cradled with absolute care against his chest as he slept, the kind of heavy sleep that comes from pure exhaustion coupled with mind-blowing sex the previous night.

Dorian was sure not even a herd of Druffalo would wake the Inquisitor right now. The elf was mostly still in Dorian's arms as he propped himself up on one elbow to watch him sleep.

Assan very rarely moved in his sleep, he had a unique talent for becoming still as a rock for hours if needed.

Dorian recalled him once telling him that he had learned the 'technique' when their clan travelled to different places. You presented less of a target if you were perfectly still.

Assan's soft brown hair, which was usually half tied back to avoid it getting in his eyes, was out of its band and spilling over his face and his pointed ears, a sight Dorian was intimately familiar with and never tired of seeing.

Dorian used one finger to trace the dark patterns of the  _vallaslin_  that trailed down across of Assan's face in vine-like patterns, mirroring the action on the opposite side which was almost completely covered in the teal ink, and the elf twitched and murmured ever so slightly.

But Dorian soon realised it wasn't because of him the Inquisitor stirred. He glanced down at the hand that was resting on his other arm, gripping the golden sheets, green magic spiting and sizzling from it.

Assan stirred again, his brows creasing into a frown, his hand tightening its grip.

The anchor was paining him.

Dorian felt a pang of sudden guilt for not noticing. Assan had insisted the mark no longer hurt him, but the pained look that crossed his sleeping face now was evidence of his lie.

Dorian took the marked hand in his, not knowing if his magic would only make the pain worse.

The Dalish archer shuddered, but settled down as Dorian held his hand. He murmured again and his frown dissipated, hand going comfortably loose in Dorian's.

Dorian let out a sigh of relief.

His gaze turned to the window. The morning had barely begun but the sun's warmth had increased to a pleasant temperature Dorian had enjoyed in Minrathous.

As a Fire Mage and native to the warmer climates of Tevinter, the cold of Fereldan didn't suit him.

Some days he even contemplated returning to his homeland, but the idea was quickly dismissed in his mind as he thought of the elf sleeping at his side.

The one time he'd voiced his desire to go home to Assan, he'd expected anger, a look of hurt or betrayal even, but he'd only found quiet understanding and acceptance in his aquamarine eyes.

He'd offered to go with him, if he wished him to, and that had sealed his decision for Dorian.

He would not return to Tevinter. He knew how much Assan feared Tevinters, feared their slavers and their magisters, feared and hated his own family.

And if he truly loved him so much that he would return to the place of his nightmares to remain with him, then Dorian would stay in Fereldan with him.

He would never put the elf through that so he could be comfortable for a few months.

If his uncle tried anything on Assan, Dorian would never forgive himself.

Assan's hand tightened in Dorian's.

"You're thinking too much again," the elf's quiet murmur came.

Dorian gave a half-hearted smirk. "I suppose I am at that," he admitted.

"Stop it, you'll get worry lines," Assan yawned.

"And ruin my dashing good-looks, then you'll leave me because I'm not handsome any more," Dorian joked.

"Exactly."

Dorian laughed. Assan gave a sleepy smile and shifted in Dorian's arms, shuffling closer to his warm skin.

"What were you thinking about  _ma'arla_?" Assan asked quietly.

"Oh a few things," Dorian dismissed. "Tevinter mostly,"

"Homesick?"

"A little but...I was more thinking about why I  _don't_  want to go back."

"Oh?" Assan looked up at him as he continued to gaze out the window.

"The first and most important thing being, there's no you in Tevinter."

Assan smiled.


End file.
